


Through Open Windows

by benferris



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: All I know is fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1613873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benferris/pseuds/benferris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis climbs through windows and Harry should probably be more suspicious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through Open Windows

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://louisdamntomlinson.tumblr.com/)
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> 
> Maybe i'll do another part to this.

Louis doesn’t remember Niall getting a cat.

He doesn’t think much of it though in his inebriated state, remembers Niall turning up with two flights to Copenhagen and a month long Eurail pass and figures stranger things have happened.

The cat swishes it’s tail around his ankle in interest so Louis picks it up, tries to pet it as he concentrates on getting up the three steps to the front door. He can almost feel the cool, smooth leather of Niall’s couch against his clammy back as he stumbles a little, stopping to yawn into his free palm.

He jiggles the doorknob a few times, just in case, but when it simply rattles in his hand Louis resigns himself to the usual crawl through the window.

“Hey kitty cat.” He says to the cat, brings it up to his eye level. The cat promptly pawing at his nose.

“You’re pretty, aren’t you? I wonder where Niall got you from. You gonna come inside and snuggle with me?”

 

The cat stares back at Louis, paws at his nose again so Louis figures that’s a yes.

 

There’s only a small gap between the doorstep and the half open window and Louis has managed to stumble through the window numerous times, he’s almost a pro at it by now even in his intoxicated state. So, it only takes him a moment to lean over and set the cat down on the window sill and push the window open enough for him to fit through.  
He does a few arm stretches, gets himself mentally prepared through the haze of five too many beers and one too many kebabs, before he’s climbing up onto the railing, hugging the column tightly. 

Steading himself on the railing he manages to step over onto the windowsill and make it through the open window with as much grace as any drunk person. 

“Parkour!” He whisper yells to the cat who has sat itself on the floor, waiting for Louis to come through the window.  
He giggles to himself for a moment before he kicks off his shoes into the corner, leaving the window open because his cheeks still feel too warm and his hands too clammy.

 

It’s only once he’s got his shoes off that Louis realises just how tired he is, eyes drooping as he practically face plants into the couch. The leather is cold against his bare arms and it gives him enough motivation to tug at his zipper and kick his jeans off onto the floor before tucking himself into the cushion that seemed far fluffier then he ever remembered.

He feels a weight against his back and hears soft purring as he falls asleep.

 

Louis wakes up to aching bones and a heavy head and he groans, presses his face deeper into cushion.

He takes a moment to get used to the pain before he sighs, tries to remember how he ended up on Niall’s couch again. He notices a weight on his back when he stretches and then a meow and remembers picking up a cat, hopefully a cat Niall had adopted or nursed back to health or something and not some strangers cat.

He shuffles onto his back, cracking his eyes just enough to see the black and white cat staring back at him. He closes his eyes again but lets the cat settle back into him, pets along it’s back absentmindedly.

“Hmm, you’re really soft. Think i’m gonna come visit Niall more often now.”

The cat just pushes back into Louis’ touch, presses into his hand.

He slips back in and out of consciousness like that, willing his headache away by sheer willpower.

Despite what he may have believed as a child, Louis does not in fact have Jedi mind powers and so in the end he still has a headache and sore limbs when he finally hears Niall clambering around in the kitchen.

 

Louis pulls himself to his feet with a resigned sigh, tucks the cat into his arm as he hears Niall whistling. 

As he’s doing so a thin, tattoo covered man with about as much displeasure for mornings as Louis walks through the door in a pair of pants and a paint splattered shirt.

He stares at Louis for a moment, jawline perfect and eyebrows furrowed.

Louis stares back at him, pets the cat some more.

 

“Um, Harry? Did you bring home a stray?”

“Are you Niall’s boyfriend? Wait, are you saying this isn’t Niall’s cat? Who’s Harry?”

“Uh– the cat’s ours. I was talking about you, mate.”

Louis blinks up at the man, wonders where Niall managed to snag himself a model boyfriend.

The man sighs heavily, pinches the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes for a moment before he walks straight back through the door he had just come from.  
Niall would find himself a moody, mysterious boy. Louis isn’t sure whether to be proud or annoyed that he hadn’t been notified.

 

Niall is still whistling in the kitchen and there’s breakfast smells now and also Louis wants to know about this boy Niall has been hiding from him so he heads for the kitchen in search of his boisterous friend.

 

There’s a pot plant sitting in the corner where Louis had thrown his shoes carelessly the night before and a skating magazine on the coffee table. Louis has spent a lot of time at Niall’s place, and while a majority of that time is spent while under the influence Louis is sure Niall has never had a pot plant, or learnt to skateboard.

Louis really needs to start visiting Niall while sober more often.

 

There’s a boy standing in the kitchen. He’s definitely not Niall though.

Louis opens his mouth, stares wide-eyed at the floppy haired boy who has stopped whistling and is now staring back at Louis with a spatula raised, ready to strike.

“Um.” Louis gets out.

So, Niall has two pretty boys over.  
All right, he knew Niall was friendly, but where does Louis get some of that Irish charm?

“Who are you?”

“Louis. Who are you?”

“Harry. What are you doing in my kitchen? What are you doing with my cat?”

 

Louis comes to the sudden and abrupt realisation that he’s just spent the night on a strangers couch in his pants and is currently holding their cat.

“Well, shit.” The boy – Harry – stares at him some more.

“I guess I climbed through your window last night and slept on your couch.”

“And made friends with Dusty.”

“And that.”

He lets out a laugh then, face seeming to light up as he does so. Dimples appear on his cheeks that might actually incapacitate Louis, he’s not sure he’s seen anything lovelier.

“You do that often?” He asks.  
He’s turning around back to the fry pan and Louis is kind of stunned, because he’s still in his pants in this gorgeous boys house and the boy has just kind of, accepted it?

“Uh– what’s your house number?”

“42.” Louis nods as he watches the man’s back, arms littered with random tattoos and skin soft and golden, as he makes breakfast.

“Right, I was aiming for 44. Never done that before. Sorry.” Louis puts the cat down on the ground then, thinks it’s probably for the best that he’s not making friends with strangers cats.

“So, you want some scrambled eggs?”

 

Louis doesn’t even know what to say at this point. The entire situation is ridiculous, may even beat Niall as the stupidest thing they’ve ever done, and yet there’s this bright eyed boy offering him breakfast. As Louis continues to stand there and not answer Harry keeps himself busy, a soft smile still on his lips and then he’s handing Louis a glass of water and some paracetamol and how can Louis say no to pretty boys with dimples?

“Yes please. Breakfast would be nice.”

 

Harry orders him to sit at the kitchen island and he does as instructed, Dusty quickly coming back to settle in Louis’ lap. As Harry puts out three plates of scrambled eggs they’re in a sort of surreal silence, where they’re entirely comfortable in each others presence and it’s just– nice. Louis has no other way to describe it.

Louis isn’t sure what time it is but for the first time in in months the sun was shining brightly through the kitchen window and it kind of hurt his head but Harry’s pretty and the sun made his eyes sparkle. He thinks it might be the nicest hangover he’s had.

“So, do you live next door then?” Louis shakes his head, feels a little regretful about the action as his head continues to pound.

“My best mate Niall lives next door. I usually sleep on his couch if I can’t get the last tube back to mine.”

 

The skinny boy joins them again, looking Louis over again, as if he wasn’t quite sure what he saw earlier.

“This is Louis, he climbed through the wrong window last night. This is Zayn, he’s a proper artist and all that.”

The other boy doesn’t say anything, just joins them, tells Harry that he’ll make dinner tonight because his lecture got cancelled, as if they don’t have a stranger sat at their table. So Louis doesn’t say anything either, just thanks Harry quietly for the breakfast.

It’s easy, somehow, Harry and Zayn talk occasionally and then Harry starts to ask Louis questions and kind of just doesn’t stop. So Louis does the same back, finds out that they moved in a few months earlier and that no, they hadn’t met Niall but that Zayn totally has heart eyes for him from the few times he’d seen him through the window.

(Harry gets a slap around the back of a head for that one)

Louis promises to introduce the two, as if it was likely that he would see the pair before and yeah, he likes the idea of that already.

 

“What are your thoughts and feelings on gelato?” Harry asks him very seriously as Harry makes them all tea after they have an in-depth discussion on the right way to take your tea.

“I’m a fan.” Louis tells him, just as seriously and Zayn groans into his eggs. 

“I regret waking up.” He says, takes his plate and his tea and leaves the room.

“Zayn isn’t a morning person. Also he does not understand that gelato is an important part of any persons happiness.”

And then.

“So, what’d you say to a stroll and some gelato?”

“Like a date?” Louis asks, hopeful. He watches Harry grin happily down at his food. Louis can’t help but do the same.

“Yeah, like a date.”

“Please.”

“Great. Good. Wonderful.”

They both grin silently. He can’t wait to tell Niall about accidentally climbing through the wrong window and meeting the boy of his dreams or something.

 

He sends Niall a quick _**alive & bout to go on a date !!! xx**_ while Harry gets dressed and he sits awkwardly perched on the couch, and it seems weird texting Niall from next door.  
He thinks about the times he’d slept just on the other side of the wall while Harry probably watched telly curled up with Dusty, probably in giant cuddly knit sweater.

Louis’ suspicions are confirmed when Harry comes back in a baggy grey sweater and skin tight black jeans, his legs look pretty incredible. Louis is so thankful.

“Shall we, then?” He asks.

“Yeah, love.” Harry positively lights up at that and Louis has to wonder if maybe he passed out on Niall’s front step and never woke up.

 

Louis has done the walk down to the tube station hundreds of times, remembers clearly early mornings in one of Niall’s t-shirts with a pounding head. It feels different with a bright, bouncy haired boy with a stupid scarf in his hair at his side.

He tells Harry that he flats in Camden and Harry tugs on his arm excitedly, telling him that they should visit the markets, get gelato there. Louis can’t say no.

They sit close on the tube to Camden as Harry tells him about moving to London and meeting Zayn and about studying and working in a bakery and Louis is infatuated. He wonders if everyone Harry has ever met has felt the same, wonders if he’ll be able to forget the warmness of his personality months down the line, when Louis becomes nothing more then a funny anecdote to Harry.

It’s the kind strum of his voice, and the happy dimples and the warmness of his presence. Louis wants to talk to him for hours, to press his fingertips into the soft curve of Harry’s hips, to hold his hand.

 

Louis walks through the markets at least a couple of times a week, usually ends up buying crap he doesn’t need with money he certainly doesn’t have. But Harry hasn’t been since he first moved, he tells Louis, so he’s bright and excitable, blabbering on and touching everything. 

Harry buys a flower crown from a heavily pierced girl who practically swoons at Harry’s smile, and he wonders if he’s that obvious too as he continues to smile at Harry. Wonders if Harry is completely oblivious to his own charm.  
So they walk around the markets, Harry with a headscarf and a flower crown and looking entirely too soft against the harshness of the London area.

 

Louis isn’t convinced they’re actually going to find a gelato store in Camden after doing a loop of the markets and some of the surrounding streets, but Harry assures him that there is one anywhere you go and sure enough they find one eventually, down a questionable alleyway.

 

Harry gets banoffee pie flavour and Louis gets coffee and caramel, even lets Harry have a lick.  
Harry promptly pulls a face at the coffee flavour, sticking out his tongue in disgust, crinkles up his nose adorably.

“I’ll stick with mine, I think.”

“Good, more for me.”

Five minutes later when they’re walking down a quieter street, away from the tourists and market goers, Harry asks if he can try it again, isn’t sure if he really got the true taste.  
He still doesn’t like it, but takes a big bite out of the caramel scoop. Louis gasps dramatically, shielding his cone.

“I trusted you!”

“Sorry.” Harry says, faux innocence as he puts on big puppy dog eyes and Louis almost falls for it, practically has to stop himself from melting into a puddle right at Harry’s stupid boots.

“Don’t think i’ll be forgetting this, i’ll remember this next time we have gelato, you menace.”

 

Harry almost walks with a bounce in his step as they wander, chatters in his deep drawl about nothing in particular, pointless stories that Louis enjoys hearing despite their stupidity. Louis has always been good at being loud but for the first time he doesn’t feel the need to be that person, the one that fills every moment, makes everything into a joke.

 

They pass a park and Harry convinces Louis that the swings are the place to be, even if Louis still feels a little heavy from his previous night out. He follows Harry anyway, sits in the swing next to Harry and holds his gelato as Harry swings and fills the space with happy laughter.

He slows down eventually and they sit there, in this dodgy park that probably hasn’t seen a kid in years and is probably a place for many a business exchanges. It’s nice anyway.

 

“What makes you so happy?” Louis has to ask as Harry hums a tune quietly.

“Who says i’m happy?”

“I dunno, you just seem so–“ Louis cuts himself off, shrugs.

“Today’s a good day, y’know? I have no reason to be unhappy today.”  
What about every other day? Louis wants to ask, wants to know that Harry is happy because he deserves that. He doesn’t ask though, just nods, has to agree.

 

“I know how to say ‘I love you’ in like, twenty languages.” Harry tells him, seems to just come out with random snippets of himself and he wonders if that’s what he’s always like, or if that’s just for Louis.

“Who’d you learn that for?”

“I don’t know yet. Just, some things are important, and at one point that seemed important.”

“It isn’t now?”

“For a long time it was kind of like I was just waiting, for like this grand, spectacular thing people felt but I realised that if I kept waiting I would put so much energy into loving the idea that I would miss it actually happening.”

“You’re pretty lovely, did you know?”

 

They talk about places they’ve been, the Palace of Versailles, the pizza place in Hampstead that sells by the slice, that reminds them both of Brooklyn.

Places they want to go to.  
Harry tells him how he wants to be the type of person who can just pick a place and buy a plane ticket for the next day, and how he wants to go to Paris again and sightsee at night. Louis hasn’t always been that kind of person but he thinks maybe by extension of Niall he’s become that, and he wants to share that with Harry, the exhilaration and freedom of doing something on a whim for the pure sake of your own happiness.  
And Louis thinks he could see himself doing those things with Harry happily.

He might actually be going crazy.

 

As it does in London the warm day dissipates into a cold drizzle so Harry walks Louis to his doorstep, even though it’s nowhere near the tube.

They kiss with sticky lips against Louis’ door like they’re still teenagers and it takes a moment for it to be any good because they’re both smiling too much and Louis doesn’t know if the feeling in his chest is happiness or the afterthought of his hangover. There’s promises made of more gelato or maybe an impromptu trip to Paris. Louis is mostly joking, but he thinks maybe he would like that anyway.

 

So they’re still strangers and Louis still has to go back to his shitty job tomorrow and he thinks maybe Harry is too good for a boy who lives on a mattress on the floor and frequently abuses his best friends couch, but it’s something.

Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling by the time he gets home.

 

Louis can’t sleep thinking about taking a plane to Paris and walking along the Seine at night with Harry.


End file.
